


Nov. 14.

by Just A Really Sad Opossum (PrussiaIsntDead)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Projection fic, Suicide Attempt, Tags ruin the ending but i dont care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrussiaIsntDead/pseuds/Just%20A%20Really%20Sad%20Opossum
Summary: Fourteen had always been his favorite number.
Kudos: 69





	Nov. 14.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO HI! BEFORE YOU READ THERE ARE SOME TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS THAT I NEED TO LIST  
> -Uncensored slurs (f slur for gay people and t slur for trans people. I am both gay and trans so I have a right to use these.)  
> -Domestic abuse references  
> -Suicide  
>  IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THESE TOPICS PLEASE READ ANOTHER FIC!!!

_ 11:59pm _

The numbers glowed there, mocking him. He looked back and forth from his alarm clock to his phone, ready to post on his Twitter at a moment’s notice. 

**_IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!! I’M THE BIGGEST MAN AROUND!!!!_ **

**** _ Nov. 14, 12:00am _

__ He threw his phone to the opposite side of the bed. He could charge it in the morning. 

He hated his birthday. He had never liked it, his distaste for the so-called “holiday” growing every year. Everyone made it seem so great. He never knew why. Nothing changed. Your problems were still there, you’d still wake up and go to school. The only difference was the added pressure of being older. He hated his birthday.

Everyone always got him something when he asked for nothing. He was extremely grateful, don’t get him wrong, it was just very annoying. He hated that people treated the day as anything other than a Saturday. There was nothing special about it; especially not for an accident like him. A tranny faggot who was too much of a pussy to actually off himself. 

His dad was the lesser of two evils. He often told Tommy how he supported him, and how he loved him no matter what. Of course, he still called his son his daughter and used Catherine to refer to him, but that could be fixed. He knew it was because his mum would be upset if she caught a whiff of him being something other than a cishet Christian who was as unaccepting as she was.

He remembers the time when he was found wearing boxers. He spent the rest of the night fighting for them back. That made the hitting worse.

He couldn’t explain to all his boyfriends why he flinched when they called him a pet name. He always laughed it off saying how he would never flinch.

_ “Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart!” His mum had slapped his dad immediately after she finished her statement. Tommy was only seven when it happened, but he remembers being huddled in the corner rocking back and forth as if his life depended on it like it was yesterday. _

_ “Poor little thing. Come here, angel.” Tommy unlocked the bathroom door. Before he could shut it again, his mum forced her way through the door, forcing him back onto the sharp counter. He didn’t get a word out before he was shoved to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mum raised the belt above her head. He didn’t go to school the next day. _

His dad had taken him to get coffee on the 13th. He also let Tommy pick out some flowers and pots to put in his room as a birthday present. Then he had Tommy wait in the pickup truck while he ran into the drug store to get Tommy a card. He had come back with three cards and a chocolate bar.

_ Catherine-Happy 16th birthday _

_ Will always love you, no matter what. -Poppy _

_ You baby _

_ Love you, Poppy _

_ Love you always _

_ Happy 16th birthday -Poppy _

He had cried after reading the cards. He ate the chocolate to try to stay quiet just in case his mum heard him. 

He absolutely hated his birthday. He had told Tubbo that his birthday was in a few hours and he had freaked out. He had screamed about how special the day was and that the two had to celebrate and hang out. He had tried to convince Tubbo that it wasn’t that special. His friend hadn’t listened and insisted on taking Tommy out somewhere to do something. 

He had a headache now. There was only one thing he could think of that would relieve the pain. He stood from his bed and trudged over to his dresser. He pulled out the top drawer and retrieved an Altoids container. Inside were 10 of his antidepressants. 

He dumped them all into his hand and took a deep breath. He then shoved them all into his mouth and swallowed, choking and gagging slightly. With luck, he would be dead before morning.

He hated his birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never liked my birthday.


End file.
